


Escort Mission

by zathara001



Series: Errand of Mercy [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-13 11:37:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14111523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zathara001/pseuds/zathara001
Summary: A mysterious email sends Callen to a farmhouse in the country, and an escort mission he never expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note - Okay, so continuity on this one is a bit whacked, and therefore it's absolutely, totally, and in all other ways AU. In my head, it takes place not long after Cap's jailbreak in Captain America: Civil War and during season two of NCIS: Los Angeles.
> 
> As always, all rights in this work are hereby given to the respective copyright owners.

"Mommy, when's Daddy coming home?"

 

At her daughter Lila's question, Laura Barton looked up from nursing her nine-month-old son Nathaniel. Behind Lila, her older son Cooper, hovered, trying desperately to look like he wasn't listening even though Laura knew he was.

 

It was a question Laura wished she had the answer to. In the wake of what the news media had taken to calling the Superhero Civil War, her husband - Clint Barton, Hawkeye - had been arrested for resisting arrest and operating as a superhero without authorization. The media had provided no information concerning where Clint was being held, let alone when he might expect to stand trial or be released.

 

Laura had supported Clint's decision to stand with Captain America against the Sokovia Accords - the Accords would require Clint to disclose not only her name and location but also the names and locations of their children, and that was something they couldn't allow.

 

Clint could have remained in retirement, and would have if Captain America hadn't called personally to ask for his assistance.

 

Sometimes, lying alone in the dark, Laura hated Captain America for that call. But Clint had discussed it with her before he agreed, and she knew her husband well enough to know that if he didn't respond, he would hate himself the rest of his life. Eventually, he would come to hate her, too, for keeping him from fighting for what he believed was right.

 

So she wished him well and let him go, and prayed for his safety.

 

That prayer, at least, had been answered. The only hero on either side to be badly injured was War Machine - and just what kind of name was _that_ for a supposed superhero, anyway?

 

Clint was alive, but imprisoned in some unknown place for some unknown time.

 

So Laura offered her daughter the best smile she could manage, and said, "I don't know, honey."

 

"I miss him." Lila climbed up on the sofa next to Laura.

 

"I miss him, too." _So much._ "But we're together, and we're safe, and he's happy that we are."

 

Her children's expressions told her the words were cold comfort, but no colder than the bed she should be sharing with Clint. With the arm not supporting her son, Laura pulled Lila close and dropped a kiss on top of her head.

 

Lila leaned into the hug for a moment before slipping down off the sofa and running past Cooper. Cooper met Laura's eyes for a long moment, then followed his sister.

 

Laura sighed and held her younger son closer while he fed. When Nathaniel let her nipple slip from his mouth, she shifted him to her shoulder to rock him gently. He was asleep within minutes and Laura rose to take him to his crib.

 

She'd just settled him in for his nap when the low rumble of an engine filled the valley. Laura rushed to look out a window, careful to stay out of sight like Clint had taught her.

 

She didn't recognize the silver-colored Mercedes sedan approaching the house.

 

Normally, she wouldn't blink. But normally, her husband wasn't under arrest.

 

"Cooper," she called in a normal tone of voice, as if there were nothing wrong, and her son came running.

 

"What is it, Mom?" he asked.

 

"I don't know," she said. "Stay here with Lila and Nate and keep them quiet while I find out."

 

Cooper nodded, his expression far too serious for a child his age. Laura smiled and rested her hand on his cheek for just a moment before hurrying down the stairs. Through the curtains, she could just make out the sedan coming to a stop a dozen yards or so behind Clint's pickup.

 

Without hesitating, she grabbed the shotgun from its rack and opened the door to step out onto the porch. She could see only one person in the sedan but, she reminded herself, that didn't mean there weren't more.

 

The driver's side door opened, and a man climbed out. He was about Clint's height and build, with close-cropped dark hair, and probably as dangerous as her husband despite the easiness of his expression.

 

"Mrs. Barton?" he asked. He hadn't tried to approach any closer than the front end of his car, keeping his hands where she could see them, and Laura could only hope that he was afraid she'd shoot him. She chose not to respond.

 

After a moment, his mouth quirked in an aborted smile. "I'm Special Agent Callen with NCIS, and I'm looking for Laura Barton."

 

"How do I know you're who you say you are?" she asked, then winced internally as she realized she'd confirmed his suspicion as to her identity.

 

Still, he said only, "My ID's in my back pocket."

 

"Turn around so I can watch you get it."

 

His smile this time was more honest, and he turned away, reaching to retrieve a black wallet from his right hip pocket while he kept his left hand held away from his body. Wallet in hand, he turned to face her and flipped it open.

 

From this distance, all she could make out was the glint of a gold badge.

 

"I can't read it from here."

 

"You can step back inside the house, and I'll bring it to the porch," he offered.

 

It was something she wouldn't have thought of, and she nodded once before doing as he suggested.

 

"Mom?" Cooper called softly as soon as the door closed.

 

Without taking her eyes from the self-proclaimed Agent Callen, Laura said, "Still figuring it out. Stay upstairs."

 

Callen approached slowly, always keeping his hands away from his body, right up to the front door.

 

She wasn't certain the bolt would hold if he tried to force it, and she knew he could break the window if he chose. She stepped back away from the door, watching as he knelt, then straightened and turned away, offering her his back as he returned to the sedan.

 

Only when he'd reached the sedan and turned back to face her, still keeping his hands where she could see them, did she open the door, grab his ID, and step back inside.

 

The badge and identification seemed genuine enough, but there was one glaring omission.

 

Laura opened the door and called, "What's the G stand for?"

 

"If I knew, I'd tell you."

 

She blinked once, twice, a third time. "How do you not know?"

 

"I was in the foster system from the time I was five," Callen said. "Nobody ever told me what the G stands for."

 

That decided her. "C'mon in."

 

That seemed to surprise him. "Just like that?"

 

"Nobody would make up a story like that if they were trying to dupe me."

 

Callen chuckled and started toward the door. "I can see why Barton married you."

 

His words made her spine stiffen. "How do you know Clint?"

 

He didn't answer until he reached the porch and looked her in the eyes. "I met him in Budapest."

 

A A A A A

 

_Twenty-four hours earlier…_

 

G Callen hated paperwork. Even when that paperwork meant a case had been closed successfully, he hated it. With a hatred that burned like the sun.

 

He especially hated it on a Monday morning, because starting off the week with paperwork was never a good sign.

 

Naturally, he did everything he could to avoid it - including checking his personal email while at work.

 

He didn't get much email as a matter of course so checking it wouldn't provide much of a delay, but at this point, any delay was a good delay.

 

G knew better than to look around to see if anyone was observing him. That was the surest way to get caught, in his experience.

 

So he tapped the keys of his laptop as though he were completing the report on the Bortz case and scanned his inbox.

 

A double handful of marketing emails had arrived - despite the fact that he never signed up for any of them - and those he deleted without blinking.

 

Which left only a couple of emails that might actually require a response. His breath caught in his chest when he saw an email apparently from his own email address with a subject line that consisted of one word.

 

_Budapest._

 

There were only two people in the world who would use that as a subject and expect him to understand it. He swallowed nervously, wondering which of the two was calling in a marker and just what it would entail.

 

Then he opened the email to read two lines.

 

_1.299.555.4321_

_Natalie Rushman_

 

Well, that (probably) told him which of the two had initiated contact. What it didn't tell him was what she wanted.

 

A glance around the bullpen told him that his partner, Sam Hanna, was apparently engrossed in completing the paperwork G was avoiding. Kensi Blye was away from her desk - and how had he not noticed her leaving, considering that she sat next to him? Still, her absence was good for him in this moment.

 

Across from him, Marty Deeks was apparently absorbed in whatever he was doing on his computer. G made a bet with himself that Deeks was playing a game of some sort, but whatever Deeks was doing, it meant G had a few moments when none of his teammates were paying attention to him.

 

He slipped a burn phone from his desk drawer and tapped in the number on his email.

 

He wasn't expecting the gruff male voice that answered.

 

"Talk to me."

 

G recovered quickly. "Natalie Rushman told me to call this number."

 

There was a long pause, followed by, "How do you know her?"

 

"Budapest."

 

Another, shorter, pause. "I'll call you back."

 

The line went dead.

 

 _Charming guy. Kinda reminds me of Jethro._ G set the burn phone aside and stared at the screen in front of him.

 

The email and phone call had resurrected memories of an operation in Budapest gone badly wrong, and the two operatives from a sister agency that he'd met in the middle of that firefight.

 

Strike Team Delta, they'd called themselves, and offered only the codenames Hawk and Spider - at least until the dust had settled and the three of them were the only ones left standing. More accurately, they were the ones left waiting for an extraction team, and it was during that wait that they'd exchanged names. Callen, Barton, Romanoff.

 

G suspected those were actually their real names, as he'd offered his, but he'd never gone searching for more information about them. He'd simply accepted them for who and what they were at the time and gone on with his job and his life.

 

Now, more years later than he cared to think about, Romanoff had gotten in touch with him, and G would be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued. Both she and Barton were capable, lethal agents, so what could she need him for after so long?

 

He'd find out when - _if_ \- the gruff-voiced man on the other end of the line called him back.

 

In the meantime, G sighed and turned back to his paperwork.

 

A A A A A

 

Just under an hour later, the burn phone rang. Ignoring the curious looks from the rest of his team, G answered the call.

 

"Callen." He hesitated only briefly before identifying himself. Romanoff and Barton knew his name, so it was possible that anyone they trusted enough to put him in contact with knew it, too.

 

"You check out."

 

"Who's checking me out?" G countered.

 

"Call me Delta."

 

"As in Strike Team Delta." G let his tone convey the rest: _how very clever of you._

 

"Better you don't know my name."

 

"For you or for me?"

 

"Both." That answer surprised G, but he just waited for the man - Delta - to continue. "Natalie needs a favor."

 

"I find that hard to believe." That was simply the truth.

 

"Not for her. For her partner."

 

G almost laughed aloud. "I find that harder to believe."

 

"Specifically, for her partner's family."

 

G straightened in his chair, knowing that he drew the full attention of the rest of his team. "What?"

 

"Wife and kids," Delta said. "You know what happened recently between the superheroes."

 

"Yes." Though he'd only seen the newspaper headlines. He hadn't bothered to buy a television to put in the house Hetty acquired for him.

 

"Then you know Natalie and her partner were on opposite sides, and her partner was on the losing one."

 

"Yes," G said again. It seemed safest to go along with whatever Delta said now. When the call was over, he could look up articles and footage from the civil war to see what in the hell Delta was talking about.

 

"Her partner is not in the States now, and it's likely that certain players will attempt to use his family as leverage to bring him back to face unjust charges."

 

"What does Natalie want me to do?" Better to cut to the heart of the matter than admit his ignorance of what had been, by all reports, a major disruption in the Avengers.

 

"Get his family to Wakanda."

 

 _Wakanda? What the hell's in Wakanda?_ But all G said was, "It would help if I knew where they are."

 

"I'll send you the coordinates," Delta said. "And do what I can to give you a head start, but you better move quickly and quietly - I'm hearing rumblings that SECSTATE may be leading the hunt for him."

 

 _This could cost me my job and my freedom - maybe my life._ But he owed Barton and Romanoff his life and more. There was, really, no choice.

 

"I'll get them out," he said.

 

"Thank you, Agent Callen."

 

G slipped the phone into his pocket. Now all he had to do was clear the time off with Hetty.


	2. Chapter 2

Laura used the time waiting for the water in the teakettle to boil to steady herself. Whoever this _G. Callen_ was, he was going to unusual lengths to make her feel comfortable with him. That should have been reassuring, and likely would have been at any other time, but now it simply set her more on edge. What was coming that she wouldn't like?

 

The kettle whistled and Laura filled the teapot she'd inherited from her grandmother before arranging cups, saucers, lemon and sugar on a tray with it and taking it to the table where Callen sat.

 

She didn't miss that he'd chosen a chair that gave him the best vantage of the room and, through the windows, the property beyond.

 

Callen smiled as she put the tray on the table. "My boss would love you. She holds tea almost more sacred than God."

 

He had an easy charm that reminded her of Clint, and Laura wanted to smile back. Instead, she said, "Did your boss send you?"

 

"Barton's partner did."

 

Laura blinked. "Natasha?"

 

"Is that her name?" Callen looked interested for a moment before he shrugged that off. "Doesn't matter. I got a message from her instructing me to call a number. A guy with all the manners of a grizzly and the voice to match answered. After he checked me out, he said I should get you and your kids out of the country, quickly and quietly."

 

Laura couldn't help staring at him. "And here you are? Just like that?"

 

"More or less. The tea should be ready."

 

Automatically, Laura reached for the pot and poured two cups. "Sorry if I'm skeptical. Just like that?"

 

Callen accepted the cup she offered him. "Thank you. How much did he tell you about Budapest?"

 

"Just that it was bad, but they got out all right." Laura frowned, searching her memory for things that Clint might have said once, many years ago. "Thanks to … a man from another agency. That was you?"

 

"That was me." Callen sipped his tea without adding lemon or sugar. "Three days of hiding and fighting for your life forms a bond. Not to say we kept in touch or anything - our jobs don't make that easy - but we knew if we ever ran into each other again, we had an ally. So when Romanoff - Natasha? - emailed, I knew it had to be bad, and I'd do what I can to help."

 

Laura reviewed what he'd said, tried to match it to memories of long-ago conversations when Clint had been an agent, not an Avenger. Callen's attitude, his loyalty to people he barely knew, felt like Clint's own.

 

"You talk a good story," Laura said finally.

 

Callen smiled again. "But you're wondering why you should trust me."

 

"If it were just me," Laura said, "I'd go now. But you're asking me to trust you with my children."

 

"And that's not easy," Callen agreed. "I worked with my partner, Sam, more than a year before he introduced me to his wife and kids."

 

"And?" Laura prompted.

 

"And?" Callen took another sip of tea, gave a one-shoulder shrug when he set his cup back down. "Kamran calls me Uncle Callen. I have Christmas dinner with them. Sometimes I go to the kids' school plays. I even dressed up as Professor Lupin once."

 

"Do you have pictures?"

 

"Not of that." Callen reached into his other pocket and pulled out a cell phone. After he tapped a few commands, he offered it to her.

 

He'd loaded a picture of a large, handsome black man with a little girl on his shoulders watching an older boy - maybe close to Cooper's age - on a basketball court, lining up a shot from the free throw line. Laura smiled at the image, then scrolled through others of the same family. Some showed their mother, easily as beautiful as their father was handsome, and one or two had Callen himself in them.

 

Laura handed the phone back. "No family of your own?"

 

"No."

 

"Haven't found the right woman to settle down with?"

 

"Not the settling kind." It was just a statement of fact, but Laura couldn't help a surge of sympathy. This man was like Nick Fury, driven to save the world - or at least his corner of it - and had given up a normal life to do so.

 

"Thank you," she said.

 

Callen looked up at her sharply, then nodded an acknowledgment before taking another sip of tea.

 

Then Laura remembered something else. "You said we're supposed to get out of the country quickly and quietly. So how come we're having tea?"

 

"Because," Callen sat forward, his blue eyes - a deeper blue than Clint's - as serious as his expression. "It's important that you trust me. I can keep you safe, but only if you trust me."

 

Then he grinned, though his gaze never wavered. "Besides, the first rule of going on the run is…"

 

"…Don't run, walk," Laura finished with him, and was rewarded by a flash of surprise. She smiled just a little. "Clint did what he could to keep us off the grid, but we always knew there's a chance someone might find us. He taught me a few things."

 

Callen nodded, as though that made perfect sense. Maybe, in his world, it did. Still, Laura took refuge from the intensity of his gaze in a sip of her own, now lukewarm, tea. Callen reminded her too much of Clint, and she wasn't certain that was entirely a good thing.

 

Whether it was or not, Laura had a decision to make. She saw three options. First, kick Callen out and take her chances staying here. Second, kick Callen out and take the kids on the run by herself. Third, trust Callen and go with him.

 

One more piece of information might help her decide. "Where are you taking us?"

 

"Wakanda."

 

" _Wakanda?_ Why?" She'd expected Mexico, or maybe some pencil-dot town in Europe.

 

"Because that's where Romanoff's contact told me to take you."

 

"Wakanda, specifically?"

 

Callen nodded. "It's a reasonable supposition that's where Barton is."

 

"I thought he was in prison."

 

"Maybe he is, but Wakanda's offering his family asylum. Or maybe we'll be met there by someone with more information."

 

"Then why not go to the Wakandan embassy?" Laura asked.

 

"You could," Callen said. "But whatever happens, that puts you and your kids on someone's radar."

 

Laura frowned. "What do you mean?"

 

"First, the staff there may not have any idea what's going on - whether Barton has been granted asylum or whatever - and will then have to ask the higher-ups to find out. Or, maybe they let you in and put you on a diplomatic flight out. That might work, but it also means you and your kids are exposed while you're getting to the plane, and you're not protected by diplomatic immunity until you board. Or any of a dozen other possibilities, all of which bring you attention we don't want."

 

Laura finished her tea while she considered. Any choice could be dangerous, including the choice not to choose. But she couldn't silence the voice inside her that whispered, _What if he_ can _take you to Clint? What if you can see Clint again?_

 

In the end, that consideration was the most important. Still, when she met Callen's gaze again, she had to say, "You know if you hurt us -"

 

"Romanoff will kill me. Yeah, I'm not stupid enough to piss her off."

 

That made Laura laugh, a sound which was cut off by a wail from upstairs.

 

Without so much as an "Excuse me," Laura was out of her seat and dashing for the stairs.

 

"I'm sorry, Mom," Cooper met her at the top of the stairs, a shotgun in his hand. "He woke up and I couldn't keep him quiet."

 

"It's okay," Laura said. "It's okay."

 

She pushed past Cooper to scoop Nathaniel from his crib and murmur soothing words to him as she rubbed his back.

 

"What's going on, Mommy?" Lila asked.

 

"We have a guest," Laura told her. "Someone who knows your dad and aunty. Come and meet him."

 

Lila nodded and followed her down the stairs. Cooper followed, his expression suspicious and so like his father it made Laura's chest tighten.

 

Callen was still sitting at the kitchen table - or, Laura corrected, he had swiftly retaken his seat - when she came down the stairs. He looked up, and a frown flashed across his face before he gave a friendly smile.

 

"This is …" Laura hesitated. "I'm sorry, what would you like to be called?"

 

"I'm Callen." He rose and offered his hand to Cooper, seemingly unfazed by the shotgun Cooper still held.

 

After a moment, Cooper grudgingly shook Callen's hand. "Cooper."

 

"And I'm Lila."

 

Laura watched, amazed, as the child who had given Thor the stinkeye practically climbed up Callen, trying to hug him.

 

"Easy there." Callen dropped to his knees to accept her hug, even though Laura had the sense that he really wasn't the hugging type. "Very nice to meet you, Lila. And who's the little one?"

 

"That's Nathaniel. He was supposed to be Natasha, but then he decided to be a boy."

 

Callen hugged Lila again before rising to his feet. He met Laura's gaze calmly. "Does this mean you know what you want to do?"

 

Laura nodded. "My son should know his father. We'll go with you."

 

"Where are we going, Mommy?"

 

"A long way," Laura said. "But we're going to see Dad."

 

Lila's squeal was part happy, part excited, and all loud.

 

"Shh," Laura said. "We have to do what Mr. Callen says, okay?"

 

"Why?" Cooper sounded suspicious.

 

"Because Dad's far away." Laura shot her son a glare. "Someplace I've never been, so we have to be careful."

 

"Have you been there?" Cooper demanded, glaring at Callen.

 

Callen answered him as if he were fully grown. "No. But I've been to places close to it, and lots of other places, too. I'll be a good guide."

 

Cooper scowled at Callen dubiously, but when he met Laura's gaze and she nodded to Lila, Cooper's expression relaxed a little.

 

"Guess a guide's a good thing," he allowed.

 

"When do we leave?" Lila asked.

 

"Soon," Callen said. "But I need to take your pictures, first."

 

"Why?" Laura asked.

 

"Passports," Callen told her.

 

"I have a passport." Cooper sounded smug.

 

"Good," Callen said. "But we're going to be playing pretend while we travel, so we need another one."

 

 _In a different name_ , Laura finished silently. "Lila, go comb your hair, okay, sweetie? Cooper, a close encounter with a comb wouldn't hurt you, either."

 

The kids went upstairs - Lila at a run, Cooper with a suspicious look over his shoulder - and Laura turned to Callen.

 

"Do you want to take Nathaniel's picture first?" she asked.

 

"Sure," Callen agreed easily, and in a few minutes, she had Nathaniel sitting against a white wall.

 

Callen squatted to get level with him and snapped a couple of pictures. A few minutes after that, Cooper and Lila had returned and had their pictures taken, as well. Then it was only Laura left. She handed Nathaniel off to Cooper and took a moment to comb her own hair.

 

When her picture, too, had been taken, Callen said, "You should pack like you're going for a vacation someplace warm for a week."

 

Laura lingered when the kids ran upstairs this time, watching as Callen worked his phone. He didn't seem to mind that she was listening when he spoke to whoever he'd called.

 

"Eric, I'm sending you some pictures. I need passports and visas for all of them … Wakanda … Right, stops in between. And for me, too, make us a family." Callen met her gaze when he spoke, and Laura swallowed, but nodded. It made sense and gave them an excuse to stay together.

 

Callen was quiet for a moment before he spoke into the phone again. "Tell Hetty it's for my detached duty assignment. And overnight them to Gibbs - no, overnight them to Abby. I'll pick them up tomorrow, maybe the day after. … Good thinking. … Thanks, Eric."

 

Callen ended the call and stood, apparently waiting to see what she'd say. Laura straightened her shoulders.

 

"What's the plan?"

 

"We're a family going on vacation," Callen said. "We'll travel by land and air, vary the route to confuse anyone who might be tracking us."

 

Laura nodded. Clint had told her something similar once.

 

Callen stepped closer to her, lowered his voice. "That's why I wanted - needed - you to trust me."

 

Laura understood immediately. If they were a family, they should be comfortable with each other. But, "We could be a couple fighting, trying to save the marriage by going on a family vacation."

 

"Save a marriage by taking the kids along?" Callen countered. "I don't know much about relationships, but that doesn't seem like the best idea to me."

 

"Probably not," Laura admitted after a moment. "What's the first stage?"

 

"Driving, here to D.C."

 

Laura winced. "That's a long day of driving, even if we switch off."

 

"If the kids get too tired, we'll stop," Callen said. "I'd rather drive straight through, but running you to exhaustion isn't keeping you safe."

 

"It is, depending on the alternative," Laura countered. "We've done road trips before - not since the baby was born, but Cooper and Lila should be good."

 

"Then we'll get on the road as soon as you're ready."


	3. Chapter 3

In the spirit of walking, not running, it was late Thursday afternoon when G pulled the Mercedes into the parking lot at the Navy Yard. So far, Barton's wife and kids had held up like troopers - Nathaniel's occasional crying bouts notwithstanding.

 

Cooper had finally started to relax with him, which made sharing a motel room the night before a lot easier. Lila had apparently adopted him as a surrogate uncle, judging by how much time she spent in his lap when they stopped for meals or restroom breaks - and G wished he felt more comfortable about that fact than he did. How the hell was he supposed to explain it to Barton?

 

Laura - Laura was dangerous. She was a softer version of Michelle Hanna, who understood her husband's job in broad outline and had chosen to stay with him despite his long absences and the risks he took. G hoped Barton realized how lucky he was to have her.

 

"What now?" Laura asked as G shut off the engine.

 

"Now I go in and get our new IDs from a friend," G said.

 

"Do you want us to wait here?" There was no challenge in Laura's tone, but the simple question gave G pause.

 

Having them sign in as guests would defeat the purpose of their staying off the grid, but he couldn't leave them unguarded, especially in a car that would grow too warm for comfort on this May afternoon. There was, then, only one solution.

 

"You can wait in the lobby."

 

"Does it have a bathroom?" Lila asked.

 

G couldn't help grinning. "Sure does. A vending machine, too, if your mom will let you have a snack."

 

"We'll see," Laura said, cutting off any questions Lila or Cooper might have.

 

"Don't talk to anyone," G reminded Lila and Cooper. "Let your mom or me do it, okay?"

 

The kids nodded, and shortly they were on their way into the Navy Yard. It hadn't changed since G had been here last, and he guided Laura to the bathrooms at one side.

 

"There's a bench across the way, see?" he pointed to it, and she nodded. "Wait for me there. I'll be in the forensics lab. If anything or anyone makes you uneasy, call me."

 

"And the vending machine?" Laura asked.

 

G looked around. "Damn. It's by the elevators - past the security checkpoint."

 

"And you don't want us signing in."

 

"If you're going to be off the grid, you should be off the grid. But - tell me what they want, and I'll get it before we leave."

 

"Right." Laura turned away from him to speak to her children, and G took that as his cue to head for the security checkpoint.

 

He presented his ID to the security guard, signed the visitor log, and proceeded to the forensics lab on the first basement level.

 

A blast of hard rock music echoed down the corridor when he stepped off the elevator, and he followed the sound to the forensics lab.

 

It really didn't take special stealth to slip in without Abby noticing - not only would the driving beat of the music obscure his footsteps, but she was bent over a microscope, apparently completely focused on whatever she was doing - find the stereo, and turn the volume down to a bearable level.

 

"What the -" Abby whirled on her stool, her glare softening when she saw him.

 

G barely managed to brace himself before she launched herself from the stool toward him.

 

"G!" she cried. "G! G! G! G!"

 

He caught her in a hug, chuckling. "Abby, Abby, Abby, Abby, Abby."

 

She squeezed him tight, then pulled back to give him a wide-eyed look. "Wow - I just realized."

 

"What?"

 

"Your name's much easier to say than Gibbs'. But don't tell him I said that, he gets grumpy."

 

"I know." G hugged her close again, briefly, before stepping back. "Do you have my package?"

 

"Oh!" In a swirl of pigtails and lab coat, Abby turned and ran to her desk. A moment later, she returned with an unopened overnight envelope.

 

"Thanks." G tore the strip from it, but before he could check the contents, a new voice echoed.

 

"Abs? Why's it so quiet?"

 

G looked up to see Jethro Gibbs striding into the room. He stopped when he saw G. "Callen?"

 

"Hey, Jethro." G gave him a what's-up nod before turning his attention back to the envelope and its contents.

 

Five passports, as requested, along with airline tickets for a flight to Spain tomorrow morning, then on to Kenya, and appropriate visa documentation. A pair of credit cards and a few hundred in dollars and euros completed the package.

 

"Thank you, Eric," G murmured, skimming the names on the documentation. Looked like Ted and Carla Jordan, with their children Justin, Lydia, and baby Elijah were off on a family vacation, just as he'd asked. He'd have to buy Eric something special to say thanks for all his work.

 

"What brings you to the right coast?" Jethro asked.

 

"Helping a friend," G responded. It was true enough, especially since he and Laura had talked enough on the drive that he felt certain she could become a friend, given enough time.

 

"And that involves Abby - how?"

 

"Needed a place to overnight this." G handed the empty envelope back to Abby, shoved the documentation in his pocket.

 

"Could've asked me."

 

"Got something else to ask you," G said, but was cut off by the vibration of the phone in his pocket.

 

He pulled it out - only then realizing it was the burn phone, not his own. There was a text from Laura - "Help."

 

G dashed for the door, calling, "Thanks, Abby!" over his shoulder.

 

He found the stairs and climbed them two at a time, grateful not for the first time for the regular training his team went through that meant he was barely out of breath when he opened the door to the lobby level and strode toward the bench where Laura and her children waited.

 

Even from here, G could see Cooper's anger and Lila tucking herself into her big brother's shoulder. The kids were definitely uncomfortable, and G had to wonder what had happened - more accurately, what the people standing before Laura and the kids had done - to cause that reaction.

 

G didn't recognize the woman with long dark hair who stood over Laura, apparently trying to talk to her. He did, however, recognize the man who stood next to the dark-haired woman.

 

"There a problem, Agent McGee?"

 

The younger agent started and turned to face him. When he recognized G, his eyes went wide and his mouth pursed open. "A- Agent Callen?"

 

"I know that," G said. "What I don't know is if there's a problem."

 

"N-no," McGee answered. "No problem."

 

"We do not know that yet, McGee." The woman spoke English very well, but had a Middle Eastern accent. When she turned from Laura to face G, he saw that she had delicate, almost elfin features belied by a hardness in her dark eyes that spoke of a less-than-delicate life.

 

"Yes, we do," G said. He let his gaze slide past McGee and the woman to meet Laura's. "You okay?"

 

"Fine," Laura said, though her expression held a tightness he hadn't seen since he first pulled up to her house.

 

"See? No problem." G gave the woman a grin and stepped between her and McGee, body-checking her aside when she didn't give ground.

 

"They are not wearing visitor badges," the woman said.

 

"'Cause they're not visiting," G replied. "They're waiting."

 

"I fail to see the difference."

 

"Difference is, if they were visiting, they'd have gone through security and gotten visitor badges." G turned back to Laura. "Ready to go?"

 

"Yes, thanks." Laura shifted forward in her seat, adjusting Nathaniel in her arms before standing up.

 

G turned to the older children. "You guys okay?"

 

"Fine," Cooper said shortly as he, too, stood.

 

Lila tore herself free from her brother's hand and flung her arms around G's waist.

 

"Hey, there, it's okay. You're okay." G patted her shoulder awkwardly, looking up at Laura for - reassurance? encouragement?

 

"I want to go now," Lila said.

 

"We're going," G promised, and finally she let go of him, only to clutch his hand in hers.

 

"Callen." Gibbs' voice cut across the lobby. "You had something to ask me?"

 

"Yeah," G called back. "Follow us out."

 

Gibbs wasn't the only one who followed them out, G noted. Both McGee and the dark-haired woman did, too.

 

When they got to G's rental Mercedes, Gibbs had a curious, almost impatient expression. G simply looked at McGee and the woman - probably but not certainly Ziva David, given her accent and how she shadowed Gibbs - in silence.

 

"They're on my team," Gibbs said.

 

"But they're not my friends," G countered. He turned to Laura. "Get the kids loaded. I'll be just over there."

 

Laura looked up, and he nodded to a spot a few yards away.

 

"Go home," Gibbs told the hangers-on.

 

"If it's NCIS business, we should know," the woman said.

 

G couldn't help snorting as he pushed past them.

 

"What's that supposed to mean?" McGee demanded.

 

G paused but didn't turn to face him. "It means you have no need to know, and I have no desire to see anything I do end up in an L.J. Tibbs book."

 

"Those books are fiction," McGee protested.

 

"If you say so. But I recognized Jethro right away," G said. "So I'm not taking any chances."

 

He paused beside a planter that blocked more than half of his body from one side.

 

"Go home," Gibbs repeated, more firmly. "See you in the morning."

 

They left - reluctantly, G thought. He watched until they disappeared into the parking lot.

 

"Nice spot," Gibbs said. "No camera coverage, and the planter blocks us."

 

G nodded an acknowledgment.

 

"Why the secrecy?" Gibbs asked.

 

"Because I'm going off grid." G pulled his gun, wallet and badge from their places, offered them to his old friend. "And I don't want anybody to know that."

 

Gibbs looked down at the items in his hand. "There a reason for this?"

 

"Not one I can share," G answered. "Not yet."

 

Gibbs took them, finally, started to secrete them on his person. "When're you coming back?"

 

"Shouldn't take more than two weeks," G answered. "Less if everything goes right."

 

"I'll keep them at my place," Gibbs said. "Nobody else will know where they are."

 

"Thanks, Jethro." G offered his hand. Gibbs shook it, and G pulled him into a one-armed hug to slap his shoulder.

 

"You need anything else?"

 

 _All the help I can get._ _But I can't put anyone else at risk._ G shook his head. "I'm good."

 

Gibbs studied him for a long moment before he nodded once. "Good luck."

 

"Hope I don't need luck," G said, and Gibbs chuckled.

 

With a last nod of farewell, G started for the sedan.


	4. Chapter 4

Laura had to admit she was surprised by Callen's choice of hotel for the night. Unlike the somewhat seedy roadside motel he'd selected last night, tonight he'd picked an all-suite hotel near the airport that appeared to cater more to business travelers than families on vacation.

 

He'd also surprised her when he stopped at a park to let the kids run around a while. He played catch with Cooper - and where had he picked up the gloves and ball? she'd have to ask him, sometime - and then pushed Lila on a swing and supervised both children when they joined a game of kickball with some other kids, giving Laura a small break that she hadn't realized she'd needed. She supposed it was more _don't run, walk_ , but wouldn't deny the pleasure she felt in a few minutes of less responsibility, a few minutes where she could pretend they were what they looked like and forget that they were on the run.

 

When they finally settled into their hotel after dinner, both Cooper and Lila were too excited to sleep, so Laura found a movie they might enjoy on the hotel's in-room TV and left them to that before checking on Nathaniel in the crib the hotel had provided and joining Callen in the suite's living room where he sat reading a newspaper he'd picked up from a bench at the park.

 

He looked up when she sat next to him. "How are they?"

 

"Watching a movie," Laura told him. "Which means they'll be asleep soon."

 

Callen chuckled at that. Before he could return his attention to the newspaper, she said, "You're good with them."

 

"If I am it's because you've done a good job with them."

 

"No, it's more than that," Laura said. "I've never seen Lila take to anyone the way she took to you. And Cooper relaxed with you very quickly, too."

 

For a moment, Callen looked like he wanted to deflect her words. Then he said, "Why do you think that is?"

 

Laura hadn't expected that question, or anything like it, and she had to think about it. While she thought, she rose and started the coffeemaker to heating water for tea. The simple action distracted her just enough that she found an answer.

 

Finally, she turned back to Callen. "Because you're so much like Clint."

 

Callen raised one eyebrow. "Except for the part where I don't go around with a bow and arrows."

 

"You're terrible at accepting compliments, you know," Laura told him, then turned back to pour hot water into two cups. "I mean your heart - your mission, your purpose, and how you go about it. That's a lot like Clint."

 

Callen remained silent while she finished steeping their tea and brought the cups to the sofa, offering him a cup and settling beside him with her own.

 

"How are you?" he asked.

 

"Better. Thanks for today."

 

He didn't respond, other than regarding her seriously, almost as if he were examining her.

 

She blew out a breath. "I'm holding up." It was true enough, as far as it went.

 

"You sure?" Callen prompted.

 

"Why do you ask?" Laura hated the defensive note in her tone and tried to cover her unease with a sip of her tea.

 

"Just confirming," he said easily, and she wondered if it were really that simple.

 

Once she wondered, she had to ask. "Why are you confirming?"

 

"Because tomorrow's going to be a long day," he said. "A long day and a half, really, and you'll be dealing with the kids mostly by yourself."

 

Laura nodded. That she understood. "You'll be too busy watching for threats."

 

"Exactly." Callen took a sip of his own tea. "So if you're not holding up, I need to know."

 

Laura let out a long breath. "I am. Or I think I am."

 

"Big difference."

 

"Yeah." She leaned back on the couch, letting her eyes drift closed. "I can't say it's easy, leaving everything behind, knowing I may never go back. But if the choice is between losing _things_ and losing Clint… There's no choice. Clint wins, every time."

 

"I hope he knows he's a lucky man."

 

Laura chuckled. "If he doesn't, you remind him when we see him, okay?"

 

"Nope," Callen said and Laura couldn't summon the energy for a glare.

 

Instead, she just rolled her head to the side to regard him curiously. "Why not?"

 

"Because he'll want to know how I know, and there's no good answer to that question."

 

That didn't make any sense - of course there were good answers, like, "You get to know someone pretty well when -"

 

No, that wasn't good because that would lead to, "Just how well do you know her?"

 

Laura tried half a dozen other answers in her mind, and they all ended up with embarrassing questions. Not that Clint had shown any jealousy before, but this was different. This was a shared high-adrenaline trip in intimate circumstances - under normal circumstances, Laura would never share a hotel room, even a suite, with a man she barely knew.

 

In these circumstances, even Clint might feel challenged when it came to their relationship.

 

Her eyes prickled with threatening tears, and Laura squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to hold them back. Callen had been right to ask how she was doing, and she hadn't lied when she said she was holding up, but that didn't mean she wasn't close to the edge.

 

She heard a soft thunk, and then strong hands were taking her mug from her. She couldn't bring herself to care.

 

"Turn around."

 

Even as soft as it was, Callen's tone carried a command, and Laura shifted so that she faced away from him. A moment later, she felt his hands at her shoulders, rubbing and kneading and stroking, and not just her shoulders, either, but her upper back and upper arms.

 

Gradually, she relaxed under his ministrations. Clint used to give her massages like this, usually on mornings after he returned from a mission, after they'd reaffirmed their marriage and she could finally let go of the stress of his absences.

 

She'd never try to convince him to quit the work that meant so much to him, but she'd been grateful when, after the Ultron fiasco, he'd chosen to hang up his bow.

 

Callen's massage seemed to go on forever, and Laura wondered idly whether his endurance carried over into other activities … and then reminded herself firmly that she shouldn't be wondering such things, idly or not.

 

Finally, Callen's hands stilled at her shoulders. "Better?" he asked quietly.

 

"Mm-hm." Laura opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder at him. "Sit back?"

 

He blinked, apparently puzzled for just a moment, then sat back against the corner of the sofa. Laura sat up, then leaned back against his chest, letting her head rest on his shoulder.

 

"Is this okay?" she asked.

 

"Very okay." He wrapped his arms around her, their weight reassuringly comfortable against her stomach. "Relax, Laura. I've got you."

 

Yes, she thought drowsily. Callen reminded her far too much of Clint.

 

A A A A A

 

G woke with a crick in his neck and a lightness in his heart he didn't remember feeling since - the good days with Tracy? Or maybe those few months with the Rostoffs?

 

Whenever it was, it had been far too long since he'd felt this good. He lay still on the sofa, keeping his eyes closed and Laura's warm body close against him.

 

One thing he knew about this feeling was that it never lasted long. He'd enjoy this time as long as he could.

 

Almost before he finished the thought, the sound of Nathaniel's morning fussiness - and how did G recognize that after only a couple of days? - made Laura stir in his arms.

 

"My turn, babe," she murmured, patting his arm before climbing to her feet, staggering slightly as she made her way to the bedroom.

 

She returned a few minutes later, Nathaniel suckling at her breast in contentment.

 

_I'd be pretty content, too, if I were doing that._

 

The thought had barely formed before G shoved it deep down inside. This was Clint Barton's wife, the mother of Barton's children. He was escorting her, and her children, to her husband. G had no right to be thinking those thoughts.

 

"Sorry," Laura murmured - quietly, because Cooper and Lila were still asleep. "I wasn't awake -"

 

"No," G said more sharply than he'd intended. He blew out a breath at her shocked expression, and said again, more gently, "No. Don't apologize. It was what it was."

 

Even from this distance, he could see Laura swallow, see the confusion in her eyes.

 

He understood. He was wondering what more would have been like, too.

 

Their gazes held for long moments before Laura nodded and turned away.

 

G ran a hand over his face. This morning's shower would be a cold one.


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn't until they arrived in Nairobi that G allowed himself to think that maybe, just _maybe_ , they'd gotten away before anyone had started looking for Barton's family.

 

He wouldn't get complacent yet - not when six hundred miles still remained between them and the border to Wakanda, and even once they crossed the border, they still had to find someone who might be sympathetic to Laura's plight, assuming anyone admitted Barton was actually in Wakanda.

 

G shook those thoughts off as he unloaded Cooper's and Lila's bags from the overhead bin. Across the aisle from him, Laura did the same with her and the baby's bags.

 

When they boarded the plane in Washington, Laura had quietly directed the seating arrangements so that G was beside Lila, and she had Nathaniel, and those had remained constant throughout each leg of their journey. Cooper's location varied, but on no stage did Laura sit beside G.

 

He understood, and a small part of him approved, her distance since the night before they left. They hadn't had sex, hadn't even kissed, but that night had been more intimate than any G could remember. If Laura had had the same reaction, and G would bet a year's salary that she had, she wouldn't want to risk a temptation that they might not resist.

 

Once they cleared Customs - and thank you again, Eric, for impeccable documentation - G directed them to a restaurant. The meals they'd been served on the flight, while better tasting than most he'd had on airplanes, hadn't been enough to fill him up, let alone children going through growth spurts.

 

"What now?" Laura asked once they'd selected their meals and claimed a table.

 

"Now we take a tourist flight to Lodwar, and then drive the rest of the way," G said. He took another bite of his _maharagwe_ , a savory bean stew, while he re-checked the information Eric had given him. "The flight doesn't leave until the day after tomorrow."

 

"Should we stay in one place so long?" Laura asked. G understood she really meant, _Do I have to wait two more days before I see my husband again?_

 

G called up driving directions on his phone. "The alternative is to rent a car and drive two days to get there."

 

"Will we have to sleep outside?" Lila asked. "I like camping."

 

"You wouldn't like camping here," Cooper said. "Lions, leopards, cheetahs, hyenas, jackals … ."

 

When G gave him a questioning look, Cooper shrugged. "I did a report in school."

 

G returned his attention to his phone display. "It'll be one long and one short day of driving. Which one do you want to do first?"

 

Laura blew out a breath. "Is that the best thing to do, or are you just humoring me?"

 

"A bit of both," G answered honestly, and her eyes narrowed. He shrugged. "We could be targets either way. A moving target is harder to hit."

 

"I want to see Daddy," Lila said.

 

G bit back a grin. Laura didn't bother, instead smiling at her son. "Cooper?"

 

"Me, too." The words were quiet, but no less firm for that.

 

Laura looked at G over her _sukuma wiki_ and _ugali_. "Longest day first?"

 

"Okay. I'll get a car as soon as we're done here, and we'll head out in the morning."

 

A A A A A

 

It was nearly twelve hours from Nairobi to Lodwar, and despite the restrictions the rental car company had, Laura switched off with Callen every time they stopped for gas. It was the least she could do, considering how much time he'd taken, how much care he'd put into, getting her and the kids out of the States and, hopefully tomorrow, back to Clint.

 

It had been some of the hardest driving she'd done - May, apparently, was the rainy season in Kenya, and they drove through downpours that all but blacked out the road in front of them. Thankfully, the rain stopped mid-afternoon, so the last half of the trip went faster than the first.

 

Still, a drive that should have taken twelve hours, according to their GPS directions, instead took nearly fourteen hours thanks to the rains, and by the time they reached Lodwar and found accommodation in a hostel that was at least clean, despite the cracked tile in the bathroom, Nathaniel and Lila were both cranky and near tears. Even Cooper, normally as level-headed as his father, snapped and snarled at Callen, her, and even Lila. The only one Cooper remained remotely civil with was the baby, and if that was all Cooper could manage, Laura decided it was enough.

 

Thankfully, the hostel had cable - though what "cable" meant in the middle of nowhere, Kenya, Laura didn't know - so once again she settled her two older children in a room with two single beds and told them not to worry about charging a premium movie or channel to the hotel bill before returning to the double room next door, where Callen and Nathaniel waited.

 

"They're not tired yet?" Callen asked from where he played some kind of keep-away game with Nathaniel.

 

Laura couldn't help laughing at that. "Give them half an hour. All that crankiness during the drive will have them out in no time."

 

"If you say so. You can turn on the TV if you want."

 

It was already dark, despite the early hour, and Laura debated doing as Callen suggested, but there were things she needed to say, and tonight was likely the last chance she'd have to say them. She crossed the room and pulled the curtains wide to let the night sky be their entertainment for the night.

 

According to a tourist guide she'd picked up, barely fifty thousand people called Lodwar home, and while they had electricity, they hadn't yet succumbed to the lure of electronic billboards or even street lights, which meant that the night sky was a cloak of velvet bisected by the sequined length of the Milky Way surrounded by pinpricks of other stars. A last-quarter moon hung low in the sky and Laura shut off the room light, leaving the room in a semi-darkness that she hoped would make it easier to say what she needed to say.

 

"Laura?" Callen asked softly.

 

She chose to interpret his question as a warning and shifted position so she was behind the wall rather than in front of the window. "I'm staying out of sight."

 

She took comfort that the sky here reminded her of home, the edge of the Milky Way bisecting the night, familiar constellations Virgo and Ursa Major and -

 

Laura blinked, focusing on an unfamiliar constellation. "Oh."

 

"What?"

 

Callen was by her side in an instant, gun ready - and just where and when had he gotten a gun? - scanning the terrain outside.

 

"No," she said, "no threat."

 

"Then what?" Callen appeared to accept her assessment and returned his weapon to a holster at the small of his back.

 

"That." She pointed to the sky. "I didn't know you could see the Big Dipper and the Southern Cross at the same time."

 

"Kenya is on the equator," Callen said before lapsing into silence as he, too, contemplated the view.

 

Laura blew out a silent breath. This was probably the best moment she could have hoped for. "I'm sorry."

 

"For what?" Callen sounded genuinely surprised.

 

"For how I've treated you since D.C. You're helping us, maybe even saving our lives, and I've treated you horribly."

 

"I've been treated horribly," Callen said. "And you haven't. Not even close."

 

"Maybe not," Laura allowed. "But I was rude, and I'm sorry."

 

"Not that I think you were, but I'm curious - why?"

 

"Because you scare me." Only that wasn't quite right. "What you are scares me."

 

"What am I?" Callen's inquiry was gentle.

 

She was glad for the semi-darkness and the fact that she faced away from Callen. It made honesty so much easier. "You're too much like Clint."

 

When Callen didn't respond, she hurried on, "I mean that in a good way. Too good. It would be so easy to -"

 

Callen's arms came around her and she tensed, wondering what he would do with the opening he'd given her. But he simply stood there, offering warmth and comfort, and gradually she relaxed.

 

"When I met Barton and Romanoff, I thought they were partners in more than one sense of the word," he said finally.

 

"No," Laura said firmly. Some people might say she was deluding herself, but she knew, down to her very soul, that there was nothing more to Clint and Natasha's relationship than a deep, trusting friendship.

 

"I figured that out, eventually. And then I met you and the kids -" Callen's arms tightened around her. "If I were the settling kind, I'd settle with you."

 

"But you're not," Laura murmured.

 

"And you're married." Callen matched her tone. "So we're friends - like Barton and Romanoff."

 

"Like Clint and Natasha," Laura corrected, turning the thought over in her mind. It brought both comfort and pride, with a little bit of danger thrown in, and she decided she'd take it.

 

She turned in his arms and found herself staring into blue eyes as bright as the midday sky. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt a familiar tightening between her legs.

 

The moment was full of potential and promise, just waiting for her to close the distance between them. There would be no harm, no foul, as they say - Clint would never know.

 

But she would.

 

Callen smiled, then, and pulled her closer. Just as she thought he was going for a kiss that should never happen, he turned the gesture into a hug.

 

"Anything you need," he murmured. "Call me. I may not be able to pick up, but I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

 

Laura let herself relax against him, surprised that she felt no arousal from him. Attraction, yes - she suspected they would always be attracted to each other - but no arousal.

 

"Same for you," Laura said, feeling inadequate even as she said them. What could a man like Callen - like _Clint_ \- ever need from her that she would be able to give?

 

"You'd be surprised," Callen said as if reading her thoughts. "Sometimes just having someone normal to talk to makes all the difference."

 

"I'll listen," Laura said. "I'll always listen. And have a cup of hot tea when you need it, and maybe a bandage or two."

 

"Let's hope I don't need that last." Callen's breath was warm against her neck. He kissed her cheek and straightened away from her. "But I'll always take a cup of tea."

 

Laura laughed quietly. "If you have any special requests, let me know."

 

"Loose leaf." Callen dropped his arms. "I can taste the paper."

 

"Really?" Laura hated to break the moment with skepticism, much less sarcasm, but who could taste the paper from a tea bag?

 

"Really. Doesn't mean I won't drink tea from a bag, but I do taste the difference."

 

Laura filed that information away. "If you say so."

 

"I know it sounds weird," Callen turned away to pick up the cup of tea she'd poured for him. "But you should meet my boss."

 

"What is it with you guys?" Laura picked up her own cup. "Strange bosses, all of you."

 

"There's a story there," Callen observed. "Maybe more."

 

"Lots more," Laura agreed. "But I don't know that I should tell you any of them. Not yet, anyway."

 

Callen dropped onto the sofa, patted the space next to him. "Why not? It's either that or whatever passes for prime-time television in British East Africa."

 

"Kenya." Laura dropped onto the sofa next to him, found herself leaning into him like she would lean into Clint. "It's been Kenya since the 1960s."

 

"Tell you what," Callen said. "Trade you a story for a story."


	6. Chapter 6

They crossed the border into Wakanda just after ten the next morning. G's hands clenched the steering wheel of their rented Range Rover even as he scanned the terrain around them.

 

They'd made it out of Kenya, and in theory they were safe, but so little was known about Wakanda - at least according to the CIA World Factbook - that G wouldn't relax until they were standing in front of Clint Barton.

 

Assuming Clint Barton was even here.

 

It was almost an hour into Wakandan territory before G saw the first signs of human habitation, a tiny village - or maybe settlement? - to the left of the road. At first glance, it looked like a number of the poorer villages they'd passed on the drive through Kenya, but to G's experienced eye, it looked _better_ , richer somehow.

 

And not just because of the pen of apparently tamed rhinos behind the first two huts.

 

Lila squealed. "I want to see the rhinocerpus! Can we stop, please, Mommy?"

 

"I don't know, honey." Laura said before shifting in her seat to look at G. "Can we?"

 

"Up to you," G replied.

 

Laura glared at him, and he understood it as easily as if she'd actually said, _You're no help._ He grinned, and she shook her head before turning away. Still, she appeared to consider it before she turned to look over her shoulder at her daughter.

 

"Okay, but only for a little while. And it's _rhinoceros_ , not _rhinocerpus_."

 

G pulled to a stop near the closest hut. He didn't shut off the engine, instead turning to regard Laura and the older children. "Let me talk to them first. And if I tell you to go, you _go_. Do _not_ wait for me."

 

"Where?" Laura asked.

 

"Back to Nairobi, the American embassy," G said. "I know, it's a risk, it puts you on the radar - but I don't see any other choice if there are hostiles here."

 

Laura nodded, grim, and slid across the seat to take the wheel as he stepped out of the Range Rover and approached a sturdy-looking black man wearing blue-pattered tribal clothing.

 

"Hi," G said. "I don't suppose you speak English? _Francais? Deutsch?_ "

 

"English will do." The man didn't smile - which was good, G thought, because a smile might turn the scars on his cheeks into something terrifyingly intimidating.

 

Every instinct he had told G this man was dangerous, and it would be wise to turn around and get the hell out of here. Still, G wanted to give the kids some little treat for their troubles. "Are you the rhino-herder?"

 

"I am."

 

"My daughter would like to see them up close. Is that okay?" He didn't hesitate over the word, even if the thought that Lila might actually be his daughter didn't make him want to run screaming in the other direction.

 

"You came all the way to Wakanda to see rhinos?" the man looked skeptical.

 

"No, we came for … other reasons," G said. "The rhinos are a bonus."

 

The man's lips twitched, just a little, and he turned to call over his shoulder in, presumably, a Wakandan dialect before nodding to G. "As long as she stays with one of us."

 

"Thank you." G turned to the car and made a "come on" gesture with one hand. A moment later, the engine shut off, and Lila bounded out of the car to G.

 

"Can I see the rhinocerpus?" she asked.

 

"Only if you're quiet and don't startle them," G said.

 

"I'll be good," Lila promised.

 

Moments later, Lila and Cooper were following a woman introduced simply as N'Yami, and Laura and the baby were the center of a group of women - many of whom, G noted, spoke English.

 

He filed that tidbit away, uncertain what it meant, but anything that unusual had to mean something.

 

"What other reasons?" the man who'd initially greeted him asked.

 

"Tourists," G answered shortly.

 

"You do not seem like tourists," the man said. "You take precautions as though someone is chasing you."

 

Even all his skill in undercover work couldn't keep G's eyebrows from flying up. "You've been chased?"

 

"I have chased," the man corrected. "Tell me, who chases you?"

 

G studied the man a long moment before he shook his head. "The less you know, the better."

 

"The more I know, the better for you, perhaps," the man countered. "Who chases you?"

 

G hesitated. The man seemed friendly enough - in a formally polite, distant kind of way - but it was Laura and her children, Barton's children, and G couldn't put them at needless risk.

 

The other man waited for G to decide what, if anything, to say, and G found himself feeling an odd kinship with him.

 

"We're looking for her husband." G said finally, nodding toward Laura.

 

"He is Wakandan?" the man asked.

 

"American," G answered. "I understand he's been given asylum here, and she wants to reunite their family."

 

"So the girl is not yours."

 

"No. But it's safer if we pretend she is."

 

"I see." The man regarded G intently, and G felt himself straightening under that scrutiny. Then the man called, "Okoye?"

 

A lithe woman with tribal tattoos on her shaved head detached herself from the group surrounding Laura and strode over. Her businesslike, no-nonsense approach reminded G of Kensi.

 

"My love?" she asked - also in English. Beneath the red and gold geometrically-patterned cloth draped around her shoulders and upper body, G caught a glimpse of something that looked more like armor than anything tribal, especially compared with the rhino-herder's sari-like drape of blue-patterned cloth, and G wondered at it.

 

The man answered in the same dialect he'd used before, and G watched Okoye's expression harden into a scowl as she listened, and then she scowled even more deeply as she studied first him, then Laura, then the children.

 

She - Okoye - conversed briefly with the other man. Then she turned to G. "What is her husband's name?"

 

G debated answering truthfully. There was nothing to suggest he shouldn't trust these two, but then again, there was nothing to suggest he should trust them, either. Finally, he opted for the truth, if only because it was more likely to get him where he wanted to be. "Clint Barton."

 

Okoye's expression never wavered, but the man - the man, G thought, recognized Barton's name. He could only hope that was a sign they were on the right path.

 

"When you leave here," Okoye said, "continue on this road. Take first the right fork, then the left, and it will take you to the capital."

 

G nodded respectfully, even though he had no idea what to do once he reached the capital.

 

"Thank you." He offered his hand to Okoye. After a moment, she took it in a grip as firm as he expected, even if he had no idea whether shaking hands was usual for her people.

 

"And thank you."

 

The rhino-herder nodded before G could think to offer his hand, so G nodded in return.

 

Lila and Cooper stood at the fence surrounding the pen, and G took the few steps to join them. For a few minutes, at least, they could be what they pretended to be, a family enjoying a holiday.

 

A A A A A

 

It took another hour and change over a road that gradually smoothed out before the first buildings came into view. Beside him in the shotgun seat, Laura leaned forward, squinting against the late morning sun.

 

"What are we supposed to do now?" she asked.

 

"I don't know," G answered honestly. "But something's wrong here. I'm not seeing any large buildings."

 

"Would there be?" Laura asked. "Wakanda is a poor country."

 

"Even the poorest countries have a palace, or a church," G said. "Maybe only a couple of stories, but they have them, and I don't see anything larger than these huts."

 

"Maybe we can't. Maybe they're around a bend or something."

 

"Maybe." G's instincts had gone on high alert, and for a moment he wished that he'd let Laura drive so his hands would be free to use his gun, if necessary.

 

Then he stomped on the brake pedal as a trio of women leapt into his path. All three had shaved heads and wore - G blinked - yes, _armor_ , and had spears pointed at the approaching vehicle. Not just simple stone spears, either, but ones with wicked forged metal blades.

 

The car settled to a stop, and Nathaniel wailed.

 

"What do we do?" Laura asked.

 

G didn't answer. In the rear-view mirror, he saw three more women, identically dressed and armed, behind the car, and a glance to each side told him that they were well and truly surrounded.

 

One of the women in front of them broke ranks, approaching the driver's side of the car. She indicated that G should roll the window down.

 

Instincts screaming at him as loudly as Nathaniel cried, G did so. Only then did he recognize Okoye, the woman who'd sent them along this road.

 

"How -" G began, but cut himself off. They weren't friends, and Okoye didn't look like she was in any mood for chit-chat.

 

Her lips twitched in what might have been the beginning of a smile, but she sobered almost before the expression registered. "You wish to find your friend. Come with us."

 

"I've never had anyone offer me help at spear-point before," G said. "Seems kind of … contradictory."

 

"Wakanda is a contradictory nation," Okoye replied. "And a cautious one. Come with us. You will go no further otherwise."

 

G glanced at Laura, only to see her twisted in the seat, trying to quiet her younger son. She looked back at him and gave a one-shoulder shrug, clearly leaving the decision to him.

 

It wasn't a decision he wanted to make, but it was one he had to make, and despite the apparent hostility of the situation, two things stood out in G's mind.

 

First, these women hadn't hurt them, hadn't even threatened to hurt them. They'd simply drawn a line beyond which G shouldn't pass without their … assistance? Permission? Something.

 

Second, and more importantly, Romanoff wouldn't have sent the Bartons on a wild goose chase.

 

"Okay," G said. "Where should I park?"

 

He followed Okoye's direction, then helped Laura wrangle Nathaniel out of the car. Lila's hand slid into his as they followed Okoye into the hut. G gave it a reassuring squeeze.

 

Okoye stopped Laura just inside the hut and gestured to her left. "This way."

 

Laura turned wide, anxious eyes on G, and G nodded.

 

"It's standard," he told her. "Separate witnesses so they don't have a chance to coordinate their stories. Of course," he added to Okoye, "we had plenty of time to do that in the car."

 

"Astute observations, both," Okoye agreed. "But that is not our reason. You have my word, you will be safe, and reunited soon."

 

G studied her for a long moment. While he'd initially been on guard - and who wouldn't be, faced with a double handful of warrior-women - something in Okoye's manner made him think this was less a threat than an evaluation.

 

"It's okay," he said finally, and saw Laura relax, however little.

 

"Lila," Laura held out her hand, but Lila shook her head and her grip on G's hand tightened.

 

"I want to stay with Uncle Callen."

 

G started to tell her to go with Laura, but Okoye smiled. "The little one may stay, if she likes."

 

Laura shot him a look that promised pain beyond his darkest nightmares if anything happened to Lila. G understood - and would likely inflict some of that pain on himself.

 

Then he and Lila were alone in the front room of the hut. Only, G noted, it was less a hut than a small home, somewhat like an American foursquare, dimly lit thanks to dust-covered windows and curtains. Even after a few minutes inside, G's eyes still hadn't adjusted well enough to see the complete room.

 

_So this is a Wakandan slum._

 

But it couldn't be, because while the house was neglected from disuse, what G could see of it was well-made and sturdy. It was a juxtaposition, and one G didn't entirely know what to think of.

 

"Can I pet the kitty?"

 

"What kitty?" G's gaze followed where Lila pointed to the far corner, shrouded in darkness. At first he didn't see anything - _all cats are black in the dark_ \- but then something shifted and … _that's a_ big _cat._

 

"No, honey," G told her, the endearment slipping out without his conscious intent. "Petting that kitty isn't a good idea."

 

Staying in the same room with it wasn't a good idea, either. Without moving suddenly, G shifted position so that he stood between Lila and the big cat - probably a panther, he decided, even as he gauged the distance between it and them.

 

Equally slowly, he eased his right hand toward the gun holstered at his back. If the panther sprang now, he'd never clear the weapon, let alone fire it, before the cat was on him. Best to be prepared.

 

"You do not need that." The masculine voice came from the corner G stared at, and for a moment G thought he might be hallucinating - _a talking cat?_

 

Then the shadow G had thought was a cat moved, and he saw it was a man rising from a crouching position to stride into the light - a man dressed in a black bodysuit with a full-face mask like a stylized cat's head.

 

"Who are you?" G asked, his hand paused on its journey to his holster.

 

"I am Wakanda's protector."

 

G couldn't help lifting an eyebrow. "Wakanda needs protection from one family?"

 

"More than you know," the man said. G couldn't make out his eyes behind the mask, but the man seemed to be amused. "Okoye tells me you seek someone here."

 

"Her father." G nodded downward to indicate Lila. "The husband of the woman in the next room, father of her children."

 

"And yet you travel with them as husband and father."

 

"To protect them, and see them safe with him."

 

"Tell me of this man - how do you know him, and why do you escort his family?"

 

G noticed his hand had fallen to his side, and wondered why he'd relaxed. Still, he answered the question. "I met their father once. We saved each other's lives."

 

The cat-man nodded. "You owe him a debt."

 

"No."

 

"No?"

 

"That's not how I think of it. He's a good man, and his family doesn't deserve to be caught up in political crap they have nothing to do with. Bringing them to him is the right thing to do, for them and for him."

 

"I see."

 

The man lapsed into silence, and G took the moment to study him. Though his features were concealed by the bodysuit - _cat suit_ , G corrected, amused - which seemed to be made of some kind of flexible armor, he held himself like a fighting man.

 

G found himself grateful that he didn't have to fight the other man.

 

_Not yet, anyway._

 

Finally, the other man spoke. "Okoye."

 

Okoye returned from the other room, leading Laura and her other two children. G didn't imagine Laura's relieved expression when she saw them any more than he imagined the relief washing through his body. They might not be out of the woods yet, but they were together again, unharmed, and that counted for a lot in G's book.

 

Okoye and the cat-man spoke quietly in a language G had no hope of understanding, and then Okoye approached them. Lila's hand tightened on G's.

 

"Come," Okoye said. "We will escort you to the capital."

 

"I thought this is the capital," Laura said.

 

"This is the outskirts of the capital," Okoye said. "Come. To your vehicle."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the fake-out - I miscounted how many chapters there are in this story. There are 8 not 7. My apologies!


	7. Chapter 7

Laura followed Callen outside to see that four of the guardswomen who had initially surrounded them had found motorcycles somewhere and taken up escort positions, two in front of the Range Rover, two behind.

 

"Stay with them," Okoye instructed, and Laura assumed she was talking to the other women.

 

She tugged Callen closer to murmur in his ear. "Are you sure about this?"

 

"Can't say I'm sure," he replied in an equally low voice, "but I think it's our best shot."

 

Laura fell silent as she settled Nathaniel into the car seat and made sure her other two children buckled their seat belts.

 

As soon as the doors closed, Laura turned to Lila. Her daughter looked all right, and she knew Callen would have told her if anything had happened, but her instincts made her ask, "Are you okay? Did anyone hurt you?"

 

"I'm okay," Lila said. "But the man should've been a kitty, just like Nathaniel should've been Natasha."

 

"What?" Laura looked from her daughter to Callen, hoping he'd provide an explanation she didn't have to decipher.

 

G smiled as he started the engine and slipped the Range Rover into gear. "There was a man wearing armor modeled after a cat of some kind. When she first saw him, she thought he was a big cat and she wanted to pet him."

 

"Oh." Laura turned back to Lila. "You should only pet small cats - never pet the big cats."

 

Lila nodded, but even as Laura faced forward in her seat, she wasn't reassured. Lila was too much Clint's daughter, too much in love with being physical and, as a result, taking too many risks. And she loved animals like Clint did. Given where they were, Laura resigned herself to keeping an extra-vigilant eye on her daughter and gave thanks that Callen were here to help her with that.

 

Then something shimmered ahead of them and she gasped. The two women ahead of them led the way through… some kind of force field? Whatever it was, the transition was over in the space between breaths, and Laura found herself staring, even gawking at the sight surrounding them.

 

Where before they'd been on the outskirts of what could have been any impoverished city in the world, now they approached a marvel of engineering. Spires towered over lush green landscapes, a slice of blue river caught her eye.

 

"What the hell…" Callen muttered.

 

"Language," Laura reminded him absently, as though she'd remind Clint. But she couldn't really fault him for his reaction - she was just too stunned to say anything.

 

Cooper sat forward from the back seat, his head between hers and Callen's, trying for a better view.

 

"It's like something out of _Star Trek_ ," he said, and Laura had to agree.

 

Besides the buildings that towered over them, some connected by walkways overhead or even - Laura craned her neck to watch behind them, just to be sure she wasn't imagining things - a raised train track of some kind, there were cars that looked far sleeker and more powerful than anything Detroit or Japan had ever produced. An aircraft that reminded her of the Avengers' quinjets sped toward the tallest building she could see, its shadow quickly lost from sight.

 

"I thought Wakanda is a poor country," Laura said.

 

"So does the State Department," Callen said. "And the CIA."

 

That drew Laura's attention away from the city, and she stared at him.

 

"What?" He grinned. "You don't think I didn't check up on it, do you?"

 

Laura could only shake her head. Truthfully, she hadn't thought about it at all once she'd decided to trust him with their lives. Clint would be angry with her for that.

 

Clint… he was close, now - or so they'd been told. Laura glanced again at Callen. She could love him as she loved Clint, and if Clint had died during the Superhero Civil War, she might have. But while Clint lived, she loved him and only him.

 

She offered up a small prayer of gratitude that Callen understood and accepted that, and then he was pulling the Range Rover into an underground garage.

 

He parked where the armor-clad women indicated, and then the women were escorting them to an elevator. Laura couldn't help smiling when Lila took Callen's hand in hers.

 

When the elevator doors opened, they were led down a long corridor and into … it had to be the throne room.

 

On the far side of the room, steps led to windows that looked out across the city. About three-quarters of the way across the room stood a metallic chair with a circular back. Around the back of the chair, two claw-like sculptures curved upward but didn't meet to complete an arch. Beyond the chair to either side, on the walkway that lined the windows, two sculpted black panthers appeared to prowl forward.

 

The room and the view beyond were breathtaking, and Laura thought she could spend an hour immersing herself in it, but the women escorting them moved to flank the doorway they'd come through forming an honor guard.

 

"What's going on, Mommy?" Lila asked, her voice echoing in the vast room.

 

"I don't know, sweetie," Laura answered. "Just stay close to Callen, okay?"

 

The doors to the room had slid open as she spoke, and a tall black man with close-cropped hair and a neatly trimmed beard strode into the room. Okoye walked behind him.

 

"You have nothing to fear here," he said. "You have my word."

 

"Who are you that your word matters?" Callen asked, and for a moment Laura thought Okoye was going to lunge at him, but she settled for scowling in his direction.

 

"A wise question," the man said, "even if others might think it rude. I am T'Challa."

 

Laura knew the name thanks to nonstop media coverage - they stood before the king of Wakanda, and she straightened, wishing she wore something other than sturdy traveling clothes.

 

"I meant no disrespect, Your Highness," Callen said.

 

"I understand. You protect them, as the Dora Milaje protect me."

 

"When you let us," Okoye muttered, and Laura stifled a smile at the king's momentary long-suffering expression.

 

The king recovered quickly, though, and turned to her. "Mrs. Barton. It is an honor to welcome you to Wakanda."

 

Of course Okoye had told him who they were. Laura stifled the urge to curtsey. "Thank you, Your Highness."

 

The king surveyed the children. "And these are Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel. Clint speaks often of you."

 

"He's here?" Callen asked at the same time Laura said, "Can I see him?"

 

"He is not here, but he is not far. My sister enjoys playing tour guide sometimes, but I have asked her to return quickly."

 

 _He'll be here soon. He'll be here soon._ Laura wanted to shout, to sing, to dance. She'd be in his arms again.

 

The king smiled gently, then turned to Callen. "And you are Special Agent G Callen, Naval Criminal Investigative Service."

 

Callen raised an eyebrow. "Not according to my ID."

 

The king laughed. "And it is an impeccable forgery. But we have other resources."

 

"I'd be interested in seeing them."

 

"I am sure you would. But you understand that some things are state secrets."

 

Before Callen could respond to that, the doors slid open once more, and a young black woman with a smile brighter than the sun streaming through the windows breezed into the room.

 

"Why do you always interrupt my fun, big brother?"

 

"Not always," the king replied. "Only when it's necessary."

 

Laura didn't hear whatever the king's sister might have said in return. Her attention was fixed on the small party behind her - Captain America. Falcon. And behind them …

 

"Clint!" She ran toward him and saw the confusion in his eyes change to joy as he realized that yes, it really was her.

 

Then he was shoving past the two men, and she was in his arms - as much as she could be, given that she still carried Nathaniel - not even trying to stop the tears that flowed down her cheeks.

 

She was with Clint again. She was home. Even in the remotest corner of Africa, she was home.


	8. Chapter 8

_Three weeks later_

 

The sun was low on the horizon when G pulled one of NCIS's stable of cars into the driveway of his house - _his_ house. His _house_. However he emphasized it, it still didn't sound right in his mind - and shut off the engine. Briefly, he contemplated just sleeping in the car, as dragging himself to the door seemed like too much work.

 

The case hadn't been particularly dangerous - not by OSP standards, anyway - but it had been three solid days of tension, work, and occasional moments of pulse-pounding action - _I must be tired, I'm sounding like Deeks_ \- and G was as exhausted as he'd ever been.

 

"Hi! Hard day?" The too-cheerful voice, loud even through the closed car windows, jerked him out of his exhaustion, and he raised his head to see Mrs. Trapletti waving at him. She'd lived across the street since before he'd come to stay with the Rostoffs, though the dog she walked now was a Pomeranian and not the Lhasa Apso he remembered from his childhood.

 

Her presence decided him - dragging himself into the house was less effort than dealing with neighbors who'd want to know why he'd slept in the car when he had a perfectly good house, and no wife or girlfriend to kick him out of it.

 

"Hard week," G told her as he climbed out of the car and secured it behind him and made his way to the door, only half-listening to her promise to bring him some lasagna and tiramisu for dinner.

 

He waved to acknowledge he'd heard her, then unlocked the door and stepped inside, yawning widely.

 

The slightest hint of something in the air, some scent, tickled the back of his throat. He forced himself to finish the yawn and close the door as he normally would. With his free hand, he slipped his weapon from its holster.

 

Before he could take another step, a female voice, low and sexy, came from deeper inside the house. "I appreciate the simple life, but you do take it to extremes."

 

The voice sounded familiar, but as tired as he was G couldn't immediately place it. So he followed it down the hall and into … his childhood bedroom.

 

A petite redheaded woman stood by the open closet door, tracing the letters carved into the edge of it: _G. Callen '83._

 

"Romanoff." G holstered his weapon.

 

"I wouldn't have figured you for the sentimental type." She looked up at him finally, a slight smirk on her lips.

 

"I'm not," G admitted readily. "My boss has other ideas."

 

Romanoff - Natasha, if Laura was right - nodded once. Then her expression softened. "How are they?"

 

"Reunited."

 

She shook her head. "Not what I meant."

 

"Not my fault you aren't specific," G shot back. Then he relented. "No troubles getting there. Whoever answered the phone number you gave me said he'd do what he could to make it easier for us. I assume he did something that I'll never know about."

 

She smiled, and even if it was brief, G thought it was genuine. "That's Fury for you."

 

Fury? There was only one Fury that G knew of in their circles, and he'd been killed a few years ago.

 

A line from Mark Twain came back to him. _The report of my death was an exaggeration._ It was sometimes even more true of his fellow operators than it was of Twain.

 

"And … the others?" Natasha's tentative question pulled him out of his reverie.

 

"Captain America signed autographs for my partner's kids."

 

Two red eyebrows flew up. "I didn't know you played for both teams."

 

"My work partner," G corrected, and wondered if that was a hint of relief showing in her expression. "Happily married to a woman as deadly as he is. Two kids. Everyone looked good. Cap, Wilson, Lang, Wanda."

 

Her forehead furrowed. "Just them?"

 

"Should there have been someone else?"

 

Natasha - and it was still strange to think of her by that name - shook her head, slowly. "No. I suppose not."

 

There was, though - G would bet his house on it.

 

"Thank you," she said simply. "Stark mentioned Clint's family, and it was recorded. It was only a matter of time before someone would use them against him."

 

"I'm just glad we got them out before that happened," G said seriously. "Even if Barton's pissed at me now."

 

"You brought his family to him. Why is he pissed?"

 

"Something about no husband should ever be given a shovel talk about his own wife."

 

Natasha stared at him for a long moment, then laughed. If G were any judge, it was an honest one. "You and Laura?"

 

"Like you and Barton," G assured her, and she studied him for a long moment before nodding.

 

"I suppose I can see it."

 

They were quiet together for a long moment, and G finally broke it. "You didn't have to come all the way to L.A. to thank me."

 

"Some things are better done in person. Like dinner."

 

"You expect me to buy you dinner?" G grinned at her.

 

"I figured I'd buy you dinner," she countered. "So I could say thank you properly. Assuming there are any good restaurants in Los Angeles."

 

"It doesn't compare to Budapest," G said. "But it has a few."

 

"Pick one."

 

G gestured toward the door. "After you."


End file.
